


Mirror

by Kantayra



Category: Alias
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-10
Updated: 2005-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julia Thorne is born...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and thoroughly random. Sarkney...in the almost literal sense, I would say. You'll know what I mean by that after you read. :P

Sydney stared into the mirror and took a slow, deep breath. Before her very eyes, her reflection shifted. Subtle, nuanced changes. Changes which would convince the Covenant that she was Julia Thorne, mercenary for hire, and that she didn’t even remember Sydney Bristow, loyal CIA operative.

Slowly, she unraveled the towel from her hair. She could feel her mind turn cold as she did so, each twist of the towel taking away a little bit more of her humanity and fitting her more perfectly into her new persona. It was almost shocking to see her hair at first. It fell wildly about her face, dirty blonde and so strikingly _not Sydney_ that she almost didn’t recognize herself. She didn’t quite know where the decision to bleach it had come from; she’d just seemed to know instinctively that, of course, someone like Julia Thorne would have blonde hair.

She dropped the towel to the floor and took a good look at herself. The hair fit the fragments of Julia’s persona that were coming together in her mind. Her expression worked, too. Blank, indifferent, mysterious. She couldn’t tell whether Julia was calm or violent in that moment. Perfect for a killer.

In fact, the only thing that didn’t quite fit was her eyes. She’d gotten the cold, stony stare right. But her eyes themselves… They should be blue, she decided. Blue like ice, flashing dangerously only when the light struck them just right. Unfortunately, she couldn’t have the inconvenience of colored contacts with her during missions. Brown would have to do.

She stood naked before the mirror, contented with the confidence – almost arrogance – of her pose and decided it was time for costume. Oleg Mavejik, contented with his latest creation, had taken her out the week before for appropriate attire for her new life. She’d quickly discarded his choices and demanded the priciest boutiques in St. Petersburg. A woman searching for her new self, she’d stalked through the aisles, picking only the best. Not only the expensive, but the highest quality as well. Price without taste meant nothing.

Mavejik had grimaced slightly at the bills she was racking up, but he kept his quiet. His prize pupil had taken on an enthusiasm of her own, and he was loath to curb it.

Sydney had picked carefully, and with an eye that was not her own. Fine, formal business attire. But not like what she’d worn to work before. These clothes had to be sleek, sexy, as if she’d been born into them. She’d had them measure her, tailoring everything to her needs. For operations, tight black assassin chic. And leather. Lots of leather. And then she needed evening formal wear. Dresses graceful and elegant both at once. Just revealing enough to lure any male eye into imagining what lay beneath.

She’d had a full wardrobe by the time she was done, and she couldn’t help but feel satisfied that she’d knocked the Covenant back a bit. And she would even more soon. Because if they thought she was going to keep driving that old bucket of bolts, they had another thing coming. Julia Thorne needed a sports car. Something powerful, fast, and maneuverable. Something to fit the rest of her.

Inside, Sydney wondered about this sudden certainly she had on Julia’s preferences. She herself had never been avaricious, had never dwelled upon the expensive. It seemed Julia was taking on a life of her own. It almost made it frightening to finally fully don the costume.

The suit was silver, with a low-cut necklace and broad collar. She slipped on her new black satin underwear first. Panties, bra, slip… The suit fit over them like a glove, clinging to her curves. She looked both perfectly formal and unbelievably sexy both at once. It was a combination she’d only seen one other person achieve…

She turned back into the mirror and slowly smiled. Not the broad smile of Sydney Bristow, but the knowing smirk of Julia Thorne. Slowly, she slipped a pair of sunglasses into place, concealing the brown of her eyes. There. That was perfect.

As she smiled to herself, she absentmindedly bit down on the left side of her lip – a Julia trademark, she decided at the spur of the moment – causing her lower lip to almost look…lopsided.

And that was when she first consciously realized it. That the figure in the mirror was one she’d seen far too often. One she’d despised, admired, emulated…

She almost staggered at the shock. Right before her eyes, but so subtle she hadn’t picked up on until just this moment. And then a very Julia-like thought flitted through her head. _He always said we were destined to work together one day…_

“Julia.” Mavejik was waiting by the door impatiently.

She looked back in the mirror and knew what she had to do. Natural, really, that she’d chosen this persona when she’d needed the fortitude of a cold-blooded killer. Fitting, in a way, that while he himself was indisposed, she should be here to take his place, fulfill his purpose in the order of things. She was confident enough in her knowledge of him that, if anyone had to replace him, he’d choose her.

Turning to Mavejik, she gave him that enigmatic smile and could barely keep the tease of a British accent from her voice; after all, Julia was supposed to be American. “I’m prepared,” she offered succinctly.

“Excellent,” Mavejik was practically wringing his hands with worry. “I’ll see if they’re ready for us.”

She tilted her head to him slightly, feeling perfectly composed about what she had to do. And, with one last glance back to the mirror, whispered, “And thanks so much for the alias…Mister Sark.”


End file.
